In his beautiful “Sonnet for Ascension Day”, Anglican poet Malcolm Guite proclaims:

We saw his light break through the cloud of glory

Whilst we were rooted still in time and place

As earth became a part of heaven's story

And heaven opened to his human face.

We saw him go and yet we were not parted

He took us with him to the heart of things

The heart that broke for all the broken-hearted

Is whole and heaven-centred now, and sings,

Sings in the strength that rises out of weakness,

Sings through the clouds that veil him from our sight,

Whilst we ourselves become his clouds of witness

And sing the waning darkness into light,

His light in us, and ours in him concealed,

Which all creation waits to see revealed.

 

Today’s Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord is a “transitional” feast”:  it is at once about letting go, and about the promise of new beginnings.  One story comes to a close: the Gospel, the time in which Jesus is present and visible to the eye of the flesh.  Another story begins: the Acts of the Apostles, in which the Holy Spirit is the prime mover.  The principle of continuity between the two stories is the person of Jesus, who says "Remember, I am with you always, to the end of time."  The difference lies in the form of his presence: from now on, the followers of Jesus discern his presence in the world not by his physical body, but through his empowering and indwelling Spirit.

How do we see Jesus?  When Jesus was walking this earth and living among us, the answer was easy.  But after the Resurrection, things are different.  Hence, the disciples are asked, “Why do you stand looking up into the sky?”  We don’t see Jesus in THAT way any more.  We have to learn a different kind of vision: what Paul calls in today’s second reading “opening the eyes of our heart.”  To see Jesus, we now need more than merely physical vision, the eye of the flesh, our physical senses.  We need more than the eye of the mind, our intelligence.  We need faith: the knowledge of the heart, the vision born of love.  

After his Resurrection, and even more so, after his Ascension, Jesus can no longer be seen with the eyes of the flesh. Think of those Gospels we read through the Easter season: Mary Magdalene at the tomb, the disciples on the road to Emmaus, the apostles out fishing.  It's not that Jesus is wearing some kind of disguise, throws it off and says "Surprise!  Here I am!"  Jesus is not the one who needs to change in order for us to see him.  We are the ones who need to change. How? By looking through the eyes of faith and love. Only then do we see Jesus present among us.

At the Last Supper, Jesus told his friends how he wanted to be remembered: as bread and wine, as life poured out in love.  Whenever we break the bread and share the cup in his name, he continues to pour his life into us, and to the world through us.  Jesus' new way of being present to the world is now through the Church, through the members of his Mystical Body, through the Spirit-filled community of his followers who gather and celebrate in his Name. 

Most of us do not spend too much time thinking about these things.  And yet sometimes life forces these thoughts upon us.  One of the most painful transitions we have to go through is the final transition, the mystery of DEATH.  On this first Mothers’ Day since my own Mum’s passing just a month ago, I find myself missing her terribly.  Last night, I went to watch my niece Emily perform the role of Cinderella in the John Abbott production of Stephen Sondheim’s Into the Woods, and felt myself moved to tears as she sang a song called “You Are Not Alone”:

Mother cannot guide you. Now you're on your own.

Only me beside you.  Still, you're not alone.

No one is alone. Truly.  No one is alone.

Sometimes people leave you. Halfway through the wood.

Others may deceive you. You decide what’s good.

You decide alone. But no one is alone.                 

People make mistakes. Fathers, Mothers.

People make mistakes, Holding to their own, Thinking they're alone.

Mother isn't here now, Who knows what she'd say?

Nothing’s quite so clear now. Feel you've lost your way?

You are not alone. No one is alone.

Hard to see the light now.  Just don't let it go

Things will come out right now. We can make it so.

Someone is on your side, No one is alone.

 

We all deal with death in different ways.  The death of a grandparent or elderly parent: sad, yet somehow understandable, easier to accept.  The death of a beloved spouse or best friend: to lose one’s other half, some fundamental part of who I am now buried and gone.  The death of a child: perhaps the hardest death of all to accept, so unfair, unexpected, and shocking.  The death of a truly and deeply good man or woman: when so many “less good” or fundamentally unhappy people seem to go on forever. Sudden, unexpected deaths, leaving us with complicated grief, unfinished business, a sense of abandonment and incompleteness.  

At the separation of death, to feel the loss, the pain, the sorrow is natural and normal.  We cry, we grieve, we complain, we wonder “why?”, we ask questions.   But ultimately, we go on.  We have no choice but to go on.  But hopefully, we go on hearing our God say to us: “You are not alone.” Our faith is a Resurrection faith, an Ascension faith, a Pentecost faith. We do our loved ones no favours by enshrining their memory in a cemetery, burying our own hopes and joys in the grave with them.  Jesus desires for us life in abundance.    

There is a beautiful line in that Ascension Day sonnet that struck me in a particular way:  

We saw him go and yet we were not parted

He took us with him to the heart of things.

 

Luke’s Gospel tells us that the disciples returned to Jerusalem after the Ascension not depressed and downcast, but “with great joy”. Where was that joy coming from?  Yes, joy in the promise of the coming Spirit, and in Jesus’ promise to return himself in glory at the end of time; but also, joy that in his Ascension, Jesus takes us with himself to the Father’s heart, makes us and the lives we have lived a precious “part of heaven’s story.”

There is so much more one could say, but words fail to capture it.  Death is the great transition, and in spite of all we know and understand, it’s still a mystery.  This is hard for us to see.  It is especially hard to see when the eyes of the flesh are clouded with tears of grief and sadness, when the eyes of the mind are clouded by despair and our inability to understand.  It is only with the eyes of the soul and the heart, that such a vision becomes possible. 

So as we celebrate Eucharist together, as we recognize the risen Jesus in the breaking of the bread, let us ask the Lord to give us that vision we need.  So that whatever transition we happen to be in, whatever death, whatever letting go, we may be able to embrace the new presence which awaits us, the gift of his Spirit.  God's plans for us are plans of fullness, not of harm; God wants to give us a future full of hope.  God desires to pour his Spirit into us - today, now.  As we prepare for a new Pentecost, may the Spirit of compassion will fill our bodies and spirits, will open the eyes of our hearts.  May we be joyful and credible witnesses of the risen Christ: the Father of Jesus, who came that we might have abundant life.

 

MOTHERS’ DAY BLESSING: AFTER COMMUNION

“It is a mother’s faith in God that keeps her “Yes” alive.  Loving and nurturing her children through the daily ups and downs of life is a challenge, but she finds the time and the ways to show them that she is their “home”, and that she loves them no matter what.  She listens, encourages, laughs, teaches, rejoices, rebukes, cries with, holds, worries about, cautions, and prays for them because they are her greatest treasure. She sacrifices her sleep, her time and her personal ambitions in order to steward and accompany them.  Her encounters with Christ in the different circumstances of her children’s lives are opportunities for her to grow in love and in faith with her children.  These encounters prepare her to let go of her children, knowing that she has modeled the journey for them, and trusting that the Risen Christ will walk with them and reveal Himself to them in their time of need.”

On this Mother’s Day let us be thankful for Mary’s model of the motherhood of God and call upon her motherly intercession.  Let us be thankful for the gift of our mothers: those still living and those who are resting in the arms of God, for their faith journey.  Let us remember in gratitude our grandmothers, aunts, teachers, religious sisters, and other women who through their work, ministry, or community service have lovingly touched our lives.  May they know how loved and cherished they are.  Happy Mother’s Day!”

(Anna Diodati, Pastoral Associate)